


Happiness, Heart, & Home

by MacKenna



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Canon Compliant, Christmas, Domestic, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 05:24:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13093311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacKenna/pseuds/MacKenna
Summary: Seth, Dean, and Roman spend their third Christmas together.





	Happiness, Heart, & Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [countmeaway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/countmeaway/gifts).



> Here's to a happy holiday for you and yours!

Roman washes the rice three times. Once for happiness, once for heart, and once for home. The kitchen windows over the sink are clouded with condensation, but Roman can still just make out the driveway and twinkling lights outside. Seth should be back in a few from picking up the groceries. Dean won’t be home for another forty minutes, and Roman feels that missing piece in his chest, just under his ribcage, where Dean can tuck if he slouches just right. He’s already texted that he’d gotten his Uber and was on the way, so Roman only has to hold on a little bit longer. 

The rice is covered and put on low just as Seth comes in from the cold. His beard is thicker and darker, making the snowflakes show up stark white where they’ve gotten caught in it. Seth nudges the door closed with his foot and puts all the bags on the kitchen island. 

“Damn, it is cold out there,” he says, walking back to the mudroom to take off his boots and coat. 

“Well, who’s idea was it to do Christmas in Iowa this year?” Roman asks, half watching Seth while he starts taking out the groceries. Seth comes back in to help, smirking at Roman from across the island.

“You guys didn’t have to agree,” he says.

“Nah, it's all good,” Roman replies. “It does make it feel more like Christmas than wearing t-shirts and flip flops in Florida.” That’s where the guys have spent Christmas the last two years running, which makes Dean and Roman happy because they both hate the cold. Dean maintains that he spent enough time in snow during his childhood that he shouldn’t ever have to go back. Roman says he’s not cut out for it. He’s used to sunny days, and beach towns - muscle shirts and shorts every day of the year - and his mom has the Santa figure in board shorts hanging ten to prove it. But Roman and Dean both agreed when Seth asked if they could do Christmas at his place this year. 

It was no big deal for Dean, who likes Christmas but is easily annoyed by its commercialization and the way places he likes to go suddenly become overwhelmingly crowded. In a lot of ways, the holidays make Dean more quiet and homebound than usual. 

For Roman, Christmas has always been about family, a house full of good food and all the cousins from California that he hasn’t gotten to see since last year. Rehashing old stories over cold beers and getting to hear some new ones, too. Lately though, family has been the two guys with whom he’s made towns, traded blows, and bled. Two guys he barely gets to see at the same time unless it’s at work, since their schedules are all over the place. Dean being traded back to Raw wasn’t an accident. They all work better together; are at their best together.

Roman is glad to spend Christmas wherever, as long as his boys are there. But for Seth, a piece of his heart belongs to Iowa. He could have been successful anywhere in the world as a trainer, but he chose to build Black & Brave right where he grew up. It really means something to him to have Roman and Dean in his home, surrounded by the roads he learned to drive on, just miles away from where he had his first show, minutes from his parents. 

They’re almost done putting away the groceries when it's time for Roman to add the coconut milk to the rice. He makes it for Seth and Dean constantly; he’s beginning to understand the way his mom’s face used to look as she made it for him and his sisters as kids. There’s just something to feeding the people you love, with something you made just for them. He’s recovering the pot to let the milk cook in when Seth reaches around to show him something.

“You got the real cheese,” Roman says, “not the healthy crap!”

“What can I say?” Seth shrugs as he presses right up against Roman’s back, “I was feeling the Christmas spirit.” His words are nearly cut off by Roman’s mouth on his.

“You’re the guy they’re talking about when they say food is the key to your heart, huh?” says Seth, not even pulling back. He’s nose to nose with Roman, with one hand under warm under Roman’s sweater and the fresh, sweet smell of coconut rice in the air.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Roman agrees easily, pressing forward and moving his mouth to the sensitive spot behind Seth’s ear. “Way to my heart, way into my pants, whatever.”

“Ha!,” Seth says, “Like I need to feed you to get that part.”

“You calling me easy, Rollins?”

“I’m calling it like I see it.” 

Seth is split-legged on the kitchen island, with Roman between them when the timer goes off for the rice. They both have slick mouths and warms hands now, Seth’s hair curling at the ends where Roman has worked it out of the knot sitting low on his neck. 

“Stay right here,” Roman mumbles into his ear, tracing the outline of it with soft lips, as he turns around to fluff the rice. Seth leans back on the counter while Roman works, watching the way his sweatpants are dangerously hanging on his hips. Which would be Seth’s fault since he’d loosened the tie to make room for his hands. He watches the flex of Roman’s back, watches his triceps tense, and wants.

When Roman turns back to Seth from the stove, immediately he’s enveloped in the cradle of Seth’s hips, kept tight by legs tucking into the back of his knees, and Seth’s hand low on his belly. 

They’re starting to move against each other, when Roman makes a sound low in his throat. He pulls Seth even closer to him, so Seth can know, can feel, how much Roman wants him, too. 

“If we start this now, we’ll never get this food in the oven for tonight. Dean’s gonna get here and convince us to say, ‘fuck it, we’ll just get pizza,’ and then it’s over.”

“I like pizza,” Seth says flippantly, and all Roman can do is laugh. But he’s released from the sweet vice grip of Seth’s legs after a squeeze and one last kiss.

Seth has just finished putting the glaze on the ham when a flash of headlights goes through the kitchen. Night has well and truly fallen by now, and the lights outside illuminate the heaviness of the snow.

“I got him,” Roman says, and Seth can hear the excitement in this voice. They’ve been without Dean for the last two nights while he was in Cincinnati. The visit doubled as a chance to see his mom and sister for the holidays and to see his doctor. The elbow injury has been difficult for him.

Both Seth and Roman have had injuries throughout the length of their careers. But somehow, through sheer tenacity or maybe just luck, Dean has never had a serious injury in the nearly two decades he’s been wrestling. He’d sounded good on the phone after the doctor, optimistic. But both Seth and Roman had to talk him out of driving himself from the airport. 

In no time Roman’s coming back in with one arm around Dean, who’s making a face, and the other rolling in Dean’s suitcase with his duffel bag on top. 

“Who the fuck’s idea was it to have Christmas in the cold, again?” he asks. Seth estimates that it couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds from Roman going out to coming back in, but they are both covered in white on one side. 

“Don’t be an asshole,” Seth replies, with a smile on his lips as he goes around to hug Dean. He and Roman jointly brush the snow off of him, which makes Dean bristle but he’s happy. They all are happy, in this moment, together for the next three days with no obligations beyond the ones they make for themselves.

“Smells good,” Dean says as he hugs Seth back, his left arm holding much tighter than his right. 

“Yeah, I made coconut rice for us while we wait for everything to finish cooking,” Roman says, kissing the top of Dean’s head before turning to take the luggage upstairs.

Dean hops up on the island, in the same space Roman and Seth were before, ignoring the semi-chaos of food surrounding him. Seth huffs and bends to put the ham in the oven. The moment the timer is set, Seth is being pulled back by the waist of his pants, until he’s got Dean’s legs on either side of him.

“What’s a man gotta do to get some service around here, you know, what with my hurt arm and all?” Dean asks, his chin on Seth’s head and one arm across Seth’s chest.

“What kind of service?” Seth replies, looking up and curling a hand around Dean’s wrist. Their eyes meet and the bone-deep feeling of true happiness bubbles up in Seth.

“What kinds you got?” Dean smirks and squeezes Seth’s sides with his legs.

“The kind where you get your ass down from where the food is,” Roman says, walking through the living room, looking like a holiday advertisement. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how good-looking Roman is. Then, in moments like this one, where the Roman is backlit by the glow of the twinkling lights and the fireplace, it hits Seth again. 

Dean doesn’t even get a chance to drop down from the his seat on the kitchen island before Roman right there before him, with Seth pinned in the middle. He kisses them both, Dean first, over Seth’s head, and Seth next, ducking lower. They stay like that for a moment. The three of them, just exactly where they want to be, tangled up in each other. 

Then Seth slips out from between them and Dean slides off the counter. For a few minutes there’s a content quiet as Roman finishes mixing the macaroni and cheese and Seth and Dean clean off the island. Eventually, everything is taken care of and they get to sit for a moment, eating their warm coconut rice with cold beer. They talk about Dean’s flight and Uber, about Seth’s school and upcoming schedule, and about Roman’s nieces and nephews. It’s lowkey and quiet, with everyone relaxed and knees and stocking feet knocking every so often under the table. 

Dean watches Seth’s lips as he drinks from his beer bottle, and Roman’s hands while he talks about his family. He thinks to himself he did pretty damn good for a kid who came from nothing. A kid who only ever had one dream and earned it, only to meet two people who expanded what his idea of a dream life could be. 

“You alright, man?” Roman asks, sliding one of his huge hands up Dean’s thigh under the table. 

“Yeah, you know,” Dean says, wiggling down so he can put his foot on Seth’s chair, right behind Seth’s leg. “I was just thinking this is good.”

“I’ll make it anytime you want,” Roman says, “it’s easy.”

“Nah,” Dean replies, wiggling some more because he’s never felt comfortable with stuff like this. It doesn’t come easy to him like it does to Roman and Seth. “I mean us, you know. This is good. Didn’t think I’d ever get to really have this kind of Christmas as a kid. Hell, didn’t think it even five years ago.” He watches Seth and Roman exchange surprised looks, because they know this isn’t Dean’s forte, either.

“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” Dean says, and he can physically see Roman get anxious and Seth get worried. But he takes a deep breath, full of the scents of the holidays, but really, full of the scents of home. Of Roman’s coconut rice and Seth’s ham, the wood Roman chopped and the real pine tree Seth picked out. He is a person beyond his career and he is loved beyond the ring.

“I’m getting surgery in January on my elbow, they don’t know the timetable for return yet.” Roman is on his feet immediately, and suddenly Dean is being held against his chest. 

“Baby,” Roman whispers, an endearment he uses much more often with Seth than with Dean. 

“Yeah,” Dean says, over Roman’s shoulder looking at a frozen Seth, “it’s supposed to be pretty minor, I’ll be able to use my arm again in a couple weeks. But I was thinking maybe I could uh, stay here? We all get some time off since we’re working the New Years show and...”

“Dean,” Seth says, reaching across the table to grab Dean’s hand. “Of course, of course.” Then Seth’s the one on his feet, crossing into the living room to grab something. When he gets back, Roman’s got one hand in Dean’s hair, doing the massage thing he’s done a thousand times on Raw and a million times in private, pressed forehead to forehead. 

“I was gonna wait,” Seth says, kneeling next to them, with one hand on Dean’s thigh. “I wanted you guys to be here this Christmas because I wanted you to know I meant it, that I want this to be yours, too." Then he’s pressing keys into Dean and Roman’s conjoined hands, wraps his own around them so it’s all three of them, in a way the cameras never get to see. 

“This place has been my home for my entire life,” Seth says, taking a deep breath and releasing it into the space they’ve created between them. “But I built this house knowing that I wanted it to be yours, too.” 

Seth catches Dean’s eyes first, wide and open, and there’s a crooked grin that gives him all the answer he needs. Seth leans up for a kiss, brief but intense the way it always is with Dean. 

When he sits back, he’s pulled bodily into Roman’s side, hair catching in Roman’s beard as “I love you” is whispered in his ear.

For long moments they stay that way, touching and together in a way that’s more than just their bodies. Each of them find comfort in the knowledge that happiness, heart, and home is no further than one another.


End file.
